Majorca 2016 - Day 3 - Blankets and Shaking Dogs

Okay, enough TUI bashing for the moment. We are on holiday and meant to be enjoying ourselves. So we did and left the hotel for a well praised restaurant, Sa Cova, on the sea front.

Nice bottle of Albarino on ice in anticipation of the seafood paella. Plates of padron peppers and Iberco ham to start. Very nice. However during my two trips to the Balearics this year, I have not tasted a single hot padron. Apparently one in ten are supposed to be.

A very nice evening spent with Mrs CT away from the bingoing, quizzing, 1950's cabaret of Neptunes Bar.

That's not Mrs CT, just some kid that got in the way of my pic. This is Mrs CT. How beautiful does she look?

I might of mentioned the amateurish signs in the hotel yesterday (remember I am not supposed to be having a go at TUI tonight). The sign writers of C'an Picafort go completely the other way with way too correct diagrams.

Surely the artist could have come up up with an instantly recognisable depiction of a dog instead of capturing the arched back, the all 4 paws together and the evident straining of the poor beast. You can almost see it shaking with the effort. (As in Peter Kay's observation "it was shaking like a shitting dog").

No, sorry but I cannot help myself. Here are two more examples of TUIsm - my new word for questionable service and hospitality.

Notations added by Mrs CT. I really like the sales pitch for the free trip to the bedding factory. Are you serious TUI? I have a good mind to go and ask Hev what time the flight departs back to Spain and exactly where this mysterious producer of duvets and blankets is. Unless every island and resort has one of course.

BTW the evening cocktail party, held just after midday, turned out to be a glass of tepid Sangria served in a small champagne flute whilst they wheeled out the various members of the TUI team. If they had bothered to provide rotting tomatoes and cabbage to throw at the stage, it might have been fun.

To be fair, afterwards one of the chefs gave us a demonstration of cooking Frito Mallorquin, a dish consisting of pork, peppers, potatoes and olive oil. Four ingredients fried in a big pan. Even so, a couple of the ageing residents (more about them tomorrow) asked if he could write the recipe down. Before you all shout at me, yes I know that this traditional dish should be made with liver. They had to use pork because 95% of the audience wouldn't eat it otherwise.

I think I might have mentioned TUI once but probably got away with it.

Laters

PS in answer to one of my readers, a Mr Rolton of Rushden, I will not be dressing up in a silver slinky number and pretending to be trans in order to get around the trouser rule. Yes it would make a good picture but it really is not going to happen.

 

 

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Majorca 2016 - Day 2 - Triathlon and Long Trousers

Let's start of with a picture of cell block H looking resplendent in the morning sun with its new glass fronts. Never, ever judge a book by its cover.

The one thing we were always going to be sure of on this holiday was Sun. Pleasingly there is plenty of it. In fact a little too much this morning. Mrs CT had forgot to bring a hat and I had left mine on a bus 2 months ago in Menorca. A brief walk out to the local tourist shops was called for.

When entering the main thoroughfare we noticed all the side streets had been closed off to traffic. Hmm something was afoot. Now I know that many of my cycling friends are well aware of the rise in the past few decades of the popularity of the island for serious 2 wheel fun. In fact Froomy and his Sky teammates use it as a training camp in the cooler months. What may not be as well known is the mecca it has also become for tri-athletes, those slightly seriously disturbed soles who just want to punish their bodies by swimming 2km then cycling 90km and then running half a marathon. And all of this today in 36c. The chaffing it must cause doing this in wet trunks/bikini bottoms is making me wince.

So here we are in the midst of the cylcle stage of the Alcudia Triathlon. Serious bikes and riders for hours and hours. There were hundreds of the maniacs.

Talking of sports, here is another top notch facility from TUI and their hotel - a table tennis table made from concrete. I kid you not!

After half an hour or so of watching the wheels go around we adjourned back to the sunbeds. Today was shown on the forecast as windy. For once the forecast was correct. "No umbrellas to be erected" was the message from management - whoever they are. I mentioned the trees on the piss yesterday, well there is no guessing as to which way the wind usually blows at this resort.

I also might of mentioned yesterday as to the dated decor of the hotel - I think I did? Here are a couple of pictures of the reception looking bored in its various shades of brown. Note total lack of staff. No doubt dealing with the stack of complaint forms - yes I am smug enough to say that it is not just us :)

When I popped back later there was a queue of 30 poor soles, freshly arrived on their 2 hour tour (longer than the flight please note) of the island, courtesy of the TUI airport bus, waiting to check in. Now here is another character from our well known Solano TV hotel. We shall call her/him, Lesley.

Unfortunately I can assure that Lesley is in fact a her. With her blouse open to her navel, and bending down to serve you, it is a sight that is not recommended. When you then also note that she is in a mini skirt with high heels you realise that this is a prime case of age inappropriate dressing. Next to her is Crissy from Scotland as referred to yesterday.

In reception there are a good few notice boards mainly put together by a class of primary school children using crayons and a pritt stick. You would think that in a Thomson Gold hotel they could do better - some hope. Here are two.

You may just notice that two of the notices are the same "LONG TROUSERS for gentlemen at the evening meal". They have to call it evening meal rather than dinner as it would confuse the Northerners. Can you imagine all the Geordies sat around the pool bar at lunchtime in their trousers. Yes that's correct you peasants lot, lunchtime and dinner, they are the correct terms for meal times. In fact there are 12 of these such notices from reception through Neptunes Bar and of course at the entrance to the canteen Mediterranean Restaurant.

Now, at this point I could have a rant but instead I am going to have a discussion with you and I would welcome you thoughts as comments at the bottom of this blog.

With my ability to read, something I have had since I was three, I knew about this rule from the Thomson brochure and in fact the same rule has been in force since the Gold concept came about. Obviously there are some undesirables that try to sneak into dinner in their speedos or ripped denim shorts otherwise there wouldn't be so many notices.

Dressing for dinner comes from a bygone age when there was respect and standards. Has that age passed? Tailored shorts paired with a nice shirt and leather deck shoes is very acceptable a many swanky restaurants in the Mediterranean. Tragically I think that allowing men to wear shorts to dinner would be subject to decisions from the management to decide what is smart and what is not and that is the problem.

My biggest gripe with all of this - if men are expected to be smart then shouldn't the women? Girls and unfortunately women of an age, turning up with their arses hanging out of hot pants, tops open in the back showing off aging "ass horns" and general sheep in lambs clothing flys in the face of this draconian rule.

If you impose a dress code then it should be for everyone if not surely it is discrimination? Discuss.

Laters

 

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Majorca 2016 - Day 1 - Solano and Pigs in Lipstick

Hello and welcome to the Hotel Solano. Not its real name but so close in its appearance, mindset and collection of residents that I shall refer to it from now own in deference to its TV counterpart in Benidorm.

In actuality we are in the resort of Ca'n Picafort on the north east coast of Majorca. We had little choice in our destination, having booked only 2 weeks ago. Due to various troubles in Turkey and France at the moment, demand for holidays in Spain and her islands is at an all time high.

After an incident free flight from Luton to Palma, on an ageing Boeing 757 with Thomson Airways, and after waiting an age for our luggage, we were met by Pedro our 70 year old taxi driver. A fascinating gentlemen who gave us a running commentary for the entire 50 minutes of our journey. Starting in 190BC with the Romans all the way to the economic climate of the current day. So enthralling was he that Mrs CT fell asleep half way through.

What neither of us had noticed was the tear in the space/time continuum that transported us back to the 1980's as we passed through Inca. Not the Peruvian type but the third largest town in Majorca famed for its leather factories.

At the end of the trip, there we were in front of the butlinesq, Hotel Solano, straight out of 1983. Crissy the receptionist, with her broad Scottish accent, promising us tons of fun, hot chips and burgers and plenty of beer on tap (isn't that usually where it comes from?). Horrified already at the intricately shit appearance of the reception lobby, we held our breath. "You are in room 307 cell block H" Crissy announced. This is getting worse and we have been here 4 minutes and 23 seconds. Cell block H, please help me now.

Sure enough, cell block H it was. Joining its counterparts A through G, they sat around a central pool in grounds of palm trees and firs on the piss. You will just have to pay attention to the pictures to follow during the week. Room 307 located at the top of 3 flights of stairs, no lift please note and door opened. OMG - just who in their right mind decided this was suitable design for an adults only "luxury" hotel. Mrs CT started to wail forth on "what have we done" and "we deserve better than this" whilst generally indicating that a good portion of the blame should lay with me.

No pool towels located nor a key to the safe, we wandered back to reception to enquire. Well that's when it really kicked off. Crissy told Mrs CT that she needed to pay a deposit of €20 for the towels and and further €23 for the safe key. " This is meant to be all inclusive, I suppose you want me to pay for the air that I breathe next" retorted Mrs CT. Oooh this is going to get good. "And we want it in cash not credit card or room charge" replied Crissy. Jeez Armageddon was upon us.

Just before a full blown handbag fight broke out, the second of our little cast of players entered stage left. "I can tell you where the nearest ATM is". This was Hev, resplendent in her light blue polo shirt proudly declaring that she was Miss TUI the friendly local rep. Flipping eck, never pre-judge a shark in sheeps clothing. (Yes I know Hev is not in Benidorm but was actually in Eastenders, but due to shape and manners her name will stick).

"Come and tell me about all your concerns and worries" Hev beckoned to Mrs CT. She may as well said "Come and sit in my lair whilst I tell you how it is and generally beat the crap out of you". After 10 minutes of being told that TUI owned the hotel and that nothing happens without her say so, and that includes room changes, hotel changes, complaints etc etc, she eventually told us where the ATM was and that we better behave from now on.

"We have made improvements to the rooms during the last year. We have replaced the balcony fronts with modern glass and taken the marble away". "You can put lipstick on a pig but it is still a pig" was Mrs CT's parting reply. I presume that this comment was aimed at the appearance of the hotel and not Hev's personal face maintainence.

Hour later we are at lunch in the WWll designed canteen, sorry Mediterranean restaurant. Having kept my calm all day I finally lost it when the bottle of beer came to the table - no draught beer in such a restaurant as this please note. "Can I have a glass for my beer" I enquired of the small school aged waiter. "It's on the table sir" he replied. Please see picture.

"I am not drinking beer out of an undersized wine glass" was my retort. Unlike the rest of the residents we had encountered so far my bladder is capable of holding more than two mouthfuls of liquid. " Bring me a proper glass, please". "We don't have any". Right that's it, gloves off you peasants. TUI you are from now on going to get both barrels. You are no longer trusted with my travel arrangements. Crissy and Hev be aware, you have now officially fucked me right off annoyed me. As you are the self proclaimed management of this sad little establishment, you have brought forth a week of complete annoying Brit abroad git. You are going to need a bigger complaints pad, trust me.

Tired, run down and uncared for. Gold this certainly not.

 

 

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